


fear of my identity

by mido



Series: datastorm december 2018 [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Datastorm December 2018, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mido/pseuds/mido
Summary: i miss being friends with youbut what can i do





	fear of my identity

**Author's Note:**

> idea prompt: freedom // oversized sweater  
> discussion prompt: what if ryoken didn't leave at the end of season one?
> 
> sort of a fusion of freedom and the discussion prompt

If there was one thing Ryoken wished for in this moment, it was that the Tower of Hanoi should’ve continued forever. No ending duel, no Playmaker breaking into his house with Kusanagi Shoichi, no Kiyoshi Kogami granting him the last of his strength and committing suicide in the process. No, Ryoken wished desperately that it never ended, that he never had to face Playmaker face to face, that he never lost their final duel, and that he never heard those three reasons to “save” him at all. Anyone sane would realize he was far too gone.

 

Yet it was as if time was spiting him, returning his consciousness back to his body just seconds too late. He opens his eyes to find himself draped over the couch next to his father’s bed, looking at a ceiling he’d seen from this exact position too many times to count. Once he comes to, half a second later, he shoots up off the couch into a standing position, almost knocking himself off balance in the process. He hurriedly looks around for Playmaker, and finally his gaze settles on a pair of emerald green eyes piercing his own steely blue ones. “Playmaker.” Ryoken says, sounding like a talking corpse. “Revolver.” The other replies, in just as dead a tone.

 

Ryoken turns back around, watching as a small yacht drifted out to the open sea surrounding Den City.  _ Spectre must’ve taken Faust and Kyoko and Genome. Good.  _ His fists still clench at his sides, though-- with Spectre and the Knights gone, it left Ryoken alone.

 

Alone with Playmaker, that is.

 

“They stole your boat.” Playmaker says, nonchalant and blunt as ever. “They can’t steal something I gave them permission to use.” Ryoken answers.

 

Silence spreads between them for a few moments; neither is sure what to say to the other. Ryoken wants to say something along the lines of  _ I hate you, Playmaker  _ or  _ let’s have a rematch, _ but he knows nothing will come of either one. A rematch would have the same outcome. Saying he hates Playmaker, the child he saved ten years ago, would be a lie.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Playmaker stand. “What do you plan to do now?” He asks Ryoken. He  _ asks,  _ as if his archenemy will give him an answer. Yet Ryoken finds his mouth opening to speak before he shuts it when he realizes what he’s doing.

 

“If you don’t want to live by yourself, my apartment has an extra futon.” 

 

Ryoken whips around and stares. Playmaker’s expression is as stony and emotionless as usual, but he can see embers of warmth in those lush green eyes. They spend a solid five seconds just staring at each other like that, until Ryoken chokes out a forced laugh. “You’re offering your home to a cyberterrorist?” He asks incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Playmaker shrugs. “If my special person happens to be a cyberterrorist, then I guess I am.” Ryoken nearly gets whiplash from how fast he turns away, not wanting Playmaker to see the tips of his ears turn red. How can he just  _ say  _ things like that?

 

“Your ‘special person’ is gone. He no longer exists.” Ryoken says coldly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Playmaker cocks his head, looking at Ryoken intently. “My special person is standing right in front of me.” He explains. There is nothing Ryoken can do but keep his face to the ocean as it colors pink.  _ Why am I getting so flustered?  _ He wonders, irritated at himself.  _ I must look like a child. _

 

“You must be insane.” He mutters, pulling one hand out of his pocket and running it through his hair in exasperation. Playmaker almost  _ smiles _ at that, he can see it out of the corner of his eye, and responds, “That seems to be a common conclusion.” Ryoken wants to scream.

 

“So what you’re saying is, you’re ready to put up the leader of the Knights of Hanoi, a cyberterrorist organization wanted by SOL Technologies themselves, in your own home, while fighting said cybercriminals in Link Vrains as well? That’s a bit counterproductive, don’t you think?” Ryoken begins to ramble-- just how does Playmaker not understand what he’s offering?

 

Playmaker bites his lip as he seems to fall deep into thought, putting a hand up to his chin. Less than ten seconds later he looks up at Ryoken, and answers simply, “Yes.” He takes a step closer to Ryoken, and the other turns to look at him like he’s a wild animal, instinctively taking a step back. “I want to pursue a new future with you, Revolver, and there’s three reasons I do. One,” he raises one finger, “I think this house will only cause you pain. Two,” another finger is raised, “I believe you’re a good person. Three,” the last finger comes up, “I care about you.”

 

Ryoken’s head is spinning. Does Playmaker have any idea what he’s saying, much less the gravity of his words? Ryoken might just faint, right here and now.

 

Instead, he barks out a laugh. “Let’s entertain the idea that I  _ do  _ go with you, hm? What will happen then?” 

 

The other looks at him blankly as if it’s obvious. “You have more money than me, so you get to buy groceries. I’m still in school, so you can have a key to come and go as you please.” 

 

This time Ryoken thinks he really will faint. From the back of his mind where he seems to have stowed his common sense, he hears Playmaker continue on about day to day life in Den City when you’re not wealthy like Dr. Kogami was. Dully, he feels himself listen. 

 

_ There’s nothing I can do now,  _ he supposes. Nothing to do but accept.

 

When Playmaker finishes, Ryoken looks into his eyes once more to find not malice, not revenge, but a soft, sunkissed meadow. “My name,” he whispers, almost inaudible, “is Ryoken.”

 

Playmaker seems to have heard, even though Ryoken was practically silent. “Okay.” He says, sticking out his hand for a handshake. “My name is Yusaku.”

 

Ryoken absentmindedly realizes he’s raised his own hand to grip Yusaku’s own. “Pleased to meet you, Ryoken.” The other says, and for the first time in his life, Ryoken watches Yusaku’s lips pull into a genuine smile. 


End file.
